A Long Needed Summer Holiday
by DowagerInTraining
Summary: It's now eight years since the Bates first visited Mr Mason and five years since the Christmas time birth of their second child at Downton Abbey. In the summer of 1934, John Bates and his wife Anna are called upon to return the favour of loving care to the Masons, who arrive for a holiday at the Gull's Nest in Whitby in need of some rest and relaxation...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello my lovelies! I am back with another lovely long story brewing about the Bates family, the Masons and the Moseleys. This will be the third in my ongoing saga, following on from 'A Long Needed Holiday' and 'A Long Needed Christmas Holiday'. Now we come to 'A Long Needed Summer Holiday'. Only this time, it's not the Bates who are in need of some R &R.**

 **As always, feedback reviews and comments are deliciously welcome. You are all lovely and wonderful to take the time to do so. I hope you enjoy the third story in this series.**

 **...**

 _June 1934_

The sun was blazing and everything in the farmyard drooped with the heat. Even the chickens were quiet, seeking shade beneath the thick dusty bushes that lined the kitchen garden, while the ducks gazed mournfully at their muddy, shallow pond. There had been no rain for a week.

For once, Bill was glad of the prolonged dry spell. It had given him and Andy an extra bit of time to get the hay making done. Now the stacks were built and thatched before the weather could turn. Daisy had turned out half a jug of sour milk from the pantry at lunchtime and was complaining of a pressure headache in her temples. His darling wife Beryl had dismissed it as a mid pregnancy symptom, but Bill now wondered whether there was a storm coming.

The sky was wide and bright, not a cloud to be seen and not a puff of breeze to be felt. Bill tugged at his old cotton shirt, hoping to fan a smidgen of air into it. The sweat trickled down his back.

"Time for a break my love?"

Bill turned to see Beryl staring out from the kitchen door, hand shading her eyes.

"Aye, that'll be right lass. Stick that kettle on for a brew, I'll just go check on the cows and I'll be in."

Beryl nodded to herself and turned back into the cool darkness of the farmhouse kitchen.

Turning towards the cattle sheds, Bill heard a quick step behind him. Glancing back, he saw Daisy hurrying towards him, with two buckets of scraps for the pigs.

"Carry one of these for us, Mr Mason?"

"Give me both of those young miss, you shouldn't be carrying anything in your condition! You're carrying enough!"

Mr Mason firmly took the buckets from Daisy, who rubbed the small of her back and patted her growing bump. He was taking no chances this time, not after what his Ally had gone through. Given his way, Daisy would have given up work by now and would be installed in the cottage she and Andy had made their home in. But after two days in this vein, Daisy had become so fretful and cross that Andy had begged him to let her come back to the kitchen.

"She ain't used to it Mr M," Andy pleaded. "She's driving me mental doing nothing, almost as bad as herself. She ain't used to being still. Let 'er back in the kitchen, Mrs M can keep an eye on 'er and see she takes a break."

Bill had reluctantly agreed, but did not waste an opportunity to relieve Daisy of her heavier tasks.

"Hay making all done?"

"Aye lass. And just in time too, I can feel something in the air."

"It's not just me then?"

"No, far from it. Come now, let's tip these in..."

The pigs grunted and rooted in delight, revelling in their supper.

"Greedy little beggars," grinned Bill. "Let's just check on the cows, and be in for a brew."

There was even less air in the hot, dark cowshed. The two new farm lads, as well as Andy, were busy with the milking. Bill breathed deep, trying to fill his lungs in the thin air.

"You alright there Mr M?"

Bill grasped at his hat, fanning it against his face.

"Mr M..."

All of a sudden the floor started to swim, the mud and straw swirling into ripples. As Andy's voice, combined with Daisy's, echoed in his ears, Bill heard the scrape of a milking stool shoved backwards as the floor came up to greet him, followed by darkness.

* * *

He came too in the cool, dark kitchen, perched on a chair, his head between his knees, shoulders held firmly in place by Beryl.

"...don't know what happened, all of a sudden he just keeled over..."

"Per'aps it were the heat?"

"Should we send for the doctor Mrs M?"

"No need for that..." Bill tried to get the words out, but the sounds felt all sluggish on his tongue.

"He's coming round!"

"Keep yer 'ead down my love, you've just had a funny turn, y'need the blood to your brain."

Andy clapped a concerned hand onto Bill's shoulder as Beryl crouched down in front of him to peek up into his face.

"What you been up to yer daft article?"

Concern was etched into her face, easing the sharpness of her words. Bill opened his eyes, seeing her image swimming before him.

"He's white as a sheet," Beryl commented. Her voice felt strangely far away.

"Watch out Mrs M, he's going over again..."

All was darkness once more, as strong hands lifted him and stopped him clattering into the flagstone floor.

* * *

"How is he doctor?"

Dr Clarkson closed the door behind him softly, and beckoned the little group away towards Bill's snug.

"Sleeping, for now. He's weak, and very pale, but Mrs Clarkson is sitting with him for the mean time."

"What's caused it?"

"Mrs Mason ... perhaps you'd better sit down. You too Daisy."

Andy stood beside his wife, a protective arm around her shoulder as she perched next to Beryl on the sofa.

"Mr Mason has had, I suspect, a mild heart attack."

Beryl gasped, her free hand flying to her mouth, shock creasing across her forehead. Daisy gripped her other hand tighter.

"We're lucky," Dr Clarkson continued. "In several ways. First that it was here, so close to you all, and not out in one of the far fields. Secondly in that it was just that – a mild heart attack. Not a serious one. He should recover with no lasting issues, but he is going to have to take it easy for a while.

"Doctor, how am I going to get him to take it easy? This is the farm's busiest time of year. I can't even get madam to sit down for more than five minutes?"

A slight guilty expression spread across Daisy's face. "You don't need to worry about me, Mrs Patmore, I can manage."

"I can do more to help," Andy broke in. "Haymaking's done, and I've taken on the milking with Ben and Jim now."

"But Andy... this is his life. He can't just stop farming. Not when there's so much going on. Harvest home will be the end of next month, and then there's the sheep shearing to arrange..."

Dr Clarkson realised that the conversation was getting away from him, and needed to bring things back under control.

"I think you're quite right Mrs Mason. Having known Mr Mason for a long time now, I don't think he can be persuaded to give up farming while he is here surrounded by his responsibilities, no matter how much anyone else might try to help and take them from him. He managed alone for many years before coming to Yew Tree Farm. If he is to rest, it must be complete rest. And for that, I think he needs to come away from the farm for a while."

All three of the Yew Tree Farm residents stared at the doctor in shock. This was serious talk indeed. Andy was the first to speak.

"Perhaps we could swap? Bill could come and stay at the cottage for a bit?"

"A generous thought Andy, but I have a feeling that your cottage is not far enough away to stop Bill's mind from playing on all of the things happening around him here. I doubt he would be able to switch off this close to his own front lines, so to speak."

"But ... where could he go?"

"I'm not sure yet Daisy. For the next few days, he absolutely must stay in bed. I'll ask Mrs Clarkson to visit each day, she is an excellent nurse and ... well, quite the forceful character at persuading reluctant patients to stay in bed."

All three of the others smiled a little and nodded. The doctor was besotted with his wife, but also knew her entire character well.

"Can I go and see him Doctor?"

"Of course. And then I shall collect Mrs Clarkson and be on my way home. If there is any change, or you are in any doubt, please don't hesitate to telephone. I can always come back later if need be."

Later that evening, after supper, The Clarksons sat and discussed courses of action for Bill Mason. The rain had begun to fall an hour since, from heavy laden clouds which had swept in through the evening sky, and the wind was picking up. Bill's storm was breaking in spectacular fashion.

"I'm happy to call on him every day if necessary, and I do think he will need that for the first few days. But we both know, my dear, that he won't rest in that farmhouse. His mind will continue listing and checking even if his body stays still, and that will lead to tension and agitation."

"You're right my dear, but what can we do?"

"Well ... we must get him away from that farmhouse. I don't suspect the poor dear has ever taken a break, farmers so rarely do, but a complete change of air and scene will do him good as well as the rest itself."

"The main problem we have is that all of his friends live around this area. They're all too close. Even Downton Abbey itself is too close, even if it were still a convalescence home like we had available during the war."

Mrs Clarkson lifted the lid on the china pot and gave the leaves a stir. Delicately balancing the tea strainer over the cup, she poured the fragrant chai tea for both herself and her husband.

"The irony is that Yew Tree Farm has been such a place of rest and convalescence for everyone else. Remember how they took in dear Phyllis Moseley when she had flu a few years ago? And before that, when Anna was sick, they had the whole Bates family with them until well into the spring."

"Aye, after little Matthew was born. I remember."

The memory of that stressful night, when Anna had given birth prematurely up at Downton Abbey, was one that neither of the two were likely to forget.

"I say..."

Mrs Clarkson sat up suddenly, replacing her tea cup with a clatter, eyes wide.

"My dear, are you quite alri..."

"Yes! I've just found the answer. The Gull's Nest!"

Dr Clarkson slowly raised his head to meet his wife's expression.

"The Bates' guest house. In Whitby."

"That's where we could send Mr Mason. For convalescence."

"Sea air. Country living without farming. Fresh salt breezes and access to good food. And good friends to take care of him. I think it would be quite perfect my dear. Provided that they have a room free, of course."

"I suspect they would make room for this my dear. They both love to return favours."

"Well," Dr Clarkson got to his feet. "No time like the present to set things in motion. Darling, where did you put the address book with all of the telephone numbers in it...?"


	2. Chapter 2

**It's time to catch up with the Bates and Moseleys!**

 **For anyone new to the story, you can catch up on the earlier events in 'A Long Needed Holiday' and 'A Long Needed Christmas Holiday'.**

Across the county of Yorkshire, another evening was being passed in companionable circumstances. With their children finally subdued in their beds after baths and a bedtime story, Anna went to their bedroom to unpin her hair and brush it out for the night and John finally had chance to put his feet up.

"Cup of tea, you two?"

John turned toward the voice from the doorway and smiled.

"That would be a treat, yes please."

With a smile, Phyllis went off to the kitchen as Joseph Moseley returned from locking up the front door.

"Little ones all tucked up, John?"

"Yes, finally. Although Matthew was determined to argue for a second story. He takes after his mother, that one..."

"Who takes after me?" Anna came in, her hair long and loose around her shoulders, her face as angelic to John as the day he had met her.

"Matthew. His arguing and persuasive powers certainly didn't come from my side of the family."

Anna chuckled, curled up into the corner of the sofa, tucking her stocking feet up beneath her. An old stirring of lust twinged in John's stomach, as he recalled many pleasant evenings where he and his wife had shared that sofa, when they had their private living quarters entirely to themselves. Squashing the old impulse down and promising himself an early night with his darling wife, John reflected that this need for self control was certainly the disadvantage of having live in staff.

Although, that being said, it was the only disadvantage. And a small one, compared to the benefits of having permanent staff who were also old and trusted friends.

"Here we are..."

Phyllis brought in the tray, a handful of ginger biscuits on a small place nestled in among the cups. Joseph beamed at her, and for a second John could see exactly what his own expression must look like when Anna entered the room.

"Thank you dear, should I pour?"

Joseph took charge of the tea tray as Phyllis sank into her customary seat. The decision to leave Downton and move to Whitby had been taken a few years ago, after Phyllis had struggled with ill health one winter. A dose of flu had developed into Bronchitis, taking an age to shift and leaving her weaker and prone to chest colds. The old cottage left to the Moseley's by Joseph's father had not been as good an investment as they had hoped, having lapsed into a poor state of repair over the years. It was riddled with damp, and the persistent cold that invaded the cottage throughout the autumn, continuing through the winter and well into the blustery Yorkshire spring did Phyllis no good at all.

The Masons had finally gotten involved after a visit from Daisy revealed the seriousness of Phyllis' condition. With agreement from Dr Clarkson and some help from Isobel, Phyllis was moved to the farmhouse along with Joseph, to rest and recover under the watchful eyes of Beryl and Daisy.

Seeing his wife so ill had shocked Joseph into action. Realising that the repairs to the house were beyond him, he set about looking to sell, hoping that they might be able to find live in work somewhere else, or to rent somewhere else on the estate. He wrote to Mr Branson asking his thoughts on the matter, inquiring about properties and wondering if he should go back to teaching at the local school.

Mr Branson had visited the cottage and noted that the repairs could be completed by the estate team, but that they would take some time and it would need to be unoccupied to take apart some of the damaged features. He offered to buy the cottage from Joseph, absorbing it back into the estate to be let out to other workers once it was complete. He left the offer on the table and advised Joseph to think carefully and see how his wife's health improved before making a decision.

By the time February was done and dusted, Phyllis was looking more like her old self, but was still thin and pale. Dr Clarkson prescribed a change of air and scene, to give her time to throw off the old infection. Telephone calls and letters to Whitby followed and in early April, Joseph took his wife by train to the Yorkshire Coast, to stay at the Gull's Nest.

At first, they were paying guests, giving Joseph time to spend with Phyllis to make sure she recovered her strength. But after the first week was up, Phyllis was soon minding the children for Anna, while Joseph found himself helping John with odd jobs around the hotel. The air was exactly what Phyllis needed – bracing, salty fresh and clean as a whistle. As two weeks stretched into three, and the Bates realised that their hotel ran more smoothly and their family lives became easier with two extra pairs of hands, the proposal was made that Joseph and Phyllis should move into the Gull's Nest as live-in staff, with first refusal on purchasing the place should John and Anna ever decide to leave.

Within a month it was all settled. Joseph returned to Downton to pack up the cottage and sign the paperwork selling the cottage back to the Downton Abbey estate. With some help from Isobel and Bill Mason, the Moseley's personal effects were packed up and crated and sent down to Whitby by train, to be delivered to the Gull's Nest. That had been two years ago, and Joseph frequently thanked his lucky stars that things had turned out so well. Phyllis never recovered her old bloom, but she rallied and was stronger in health in the bracing Whitby air than she had been at Downton, which was the best blessing that could be hoped for under the circumstances.

Just as all four of them took a sip from their teacups, the telephone shrilled into the air. In one fluid movement, John had the cup back into his saucer and reached across to snatch the receiver from the cradle, hoping that it had not woken the children. Anna, reading his mind, was already on her way to check on them as he answered.

"Whitby 286, Gull's Nest, John Bates speaking?"

"Mr Bates, I'm sorry to call so late, it's Dr Clarkson calling from Downton."

"Dr Clarkson! Goodness, what brings you to the phone so late at night?"

"I won't beat about the bush John..." John smiled into the received, recognising a slither of the old army attitude creeping back into the doctor's tone, "I'm calling because I need your help. Not on my own behalf, but on someone else's."

John's eyes flicked over to Joseph and Phyllis. He remembered a conversation that started in this vein a few years ago.

"Go ahead Doctor, what can I do for you?"

"Well, it's Bill Mason I'm calling about."

"Bill?"

That name had everyone's head shoot up. Anna hurried back into the room, her eyes transfixed on John as he listened to the doctor's call and a worried expression began to creep across his face.

"No ... no absolutely, you were right to call. Of course we can help. Let us just get the ledger..." he motioned to the door and caught Joseph's eyes. Understanding at once, he fled to retrieve the booking ledger from the reception desk.

"John what's going on?"

John motioned to Anna to wait a second, still listening intently to the other side of the call.

"So ... the sooner the better? Within a few weeks. Right I see... Just hold on a second Doctor, let me pass you to Anna, you'd better fill her in..."

As Joseph returned, John passed the phone to Anna and turned to begin studying the book.

"What's the matter John, what's going on?" Phyllis spoke in a hushed tone, as the three of them bent over the book.

"Bill Mason's had a heart attack. He's ok, but the doctor wants to get him here to stay for rest and recuperation. But I think we're booked out..."

"Did you say in a few weeks?"

John met Joseph's eyes. "Yes, why?"

"The Marksons cancelled. They were due to come for a month. In three weeks time."

"Really? How come?"

"He didn't say, called this morning full of apologies. Said he will still pay for the room, given the short notice and length of stay."

"What room were they in?"

"The Abbey Room, first floor."

"Just a second Doctor, let me find out ... John? Have you found anything?"

John hurried back over to the telephone, taking the receiver from Anna, who immediately began filling the Moseley's in on the details.

"Doctor? John here again. If you can wait three weeks, we've got a room. And it's available for a month. Mmmm hmmm ... yes I see ... so that would work then? One second, let me check..." John covered the receiver with his hand. "Joseph, is there anything else free for one night, at the start of that booking?"

"The Bay Room is free, but only for that one night..."

"Perfect, book both of those out..." John returned to the telephone. "Yes, we do, but for one night only. Will that be alright... ? Excellent, glad to hear it Doctor. I'll follow this all up in writing by the morning post. Yes ... yes of course. And do give our best to Mrs Clarkson too. We'll be in touch. Goodnight Doctor."

The receiver tinged back into its cradle, as John turned back to the assembled company, who had now heard the salient details from Anna.

"Dr and Mrs Clarkson are going to drive Bill and Beryl over here. They'll stay one night, just to settle Bill in and to give Doctor Clarkson chance to have a talk with the local Doctor. They'd also like chance to see Josie and Matty. Then they'll go back the following day."

"That's good of them, to drive over here."

"I'm not surprised," said Anna. "We all know Isobel, she'll do anything to help in a crisis. And it's not the first time she's driven over here." She reached across and squeezed John's hand, remembering their rescue more than five years ago.

"It sounds as if Bill's very weak, but the doctor thinks he will recover. If we can get him to rest."

"Well..." Joseph blotted the entries in the ledger and closed it decisively. "If they want him to rest, they need to get him away from the farm. Hopefully he won't resort to counting sheep at night."

A quiet ripple of laughter spread through the room as the four friends took their seats once more, and began to plan how to set up their rooms and arrange matters to return the kindly hospitality they had experienced to their friends in need.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: *TAP TAP* Is this thing still on?**

 **Well I made it. I'm now living in New Zealand, working on the west coast of the south island as a school teacher! Hubby is still in the UK, but due to join me asap. And now we're on our way to our future, and there is both time in my life and room in my head for writing again!**

 **This story has lain dormant for a long time. Now it's time to find a finish for it. Let's go.**

"No."

"But Bill, I…"

"I said no, Beryl."

Mrs Patmore was shocked into silence. In his better moods, Bill called her Darling. Even when he was teasing her, he called her Mrs Mason, still tickled pink that she had agreed to be his wife. But his use of her first name was restricted to particular occasions when he wanted to make an impression.

"Look pet, I've never been away from me own farm. Not ever. It's not right for a farmer to be away from his livelihood."

"But Bill…"

She reached for his hand, stretched out on top of the bedspread. Though his face was set into a straight line of resolve, he relented enough to hold her fingers. The strength was gone from his grip though, and his face was white and thin.

"Bill my love … the farm's got everyone here to worry about it. It's got Daisy, and Andy, and me too, and all the people who work here. Not to mention the family at Downton Abbey, Lady Mary would never let anything happen to the place. Nor would Mr Branson."

Bill grunted and tossed his head. "Mr Branson … he spends more time with them flippin' motor cars than any livestock these days, him and that Mr Talbot."

Mrs Patmore wisely held her tongue. Bill had little time for those who valued machines above livestock.

"But my love … the farm needs you for the long term. Not just the harvest."

There was a knock at the door. Daisy's voice called through.

"Can I come in?"

"You most certainly can…"

Mrs Patmore hauled off the bed, after one final squeeze of Bill's fingers. She flung the door open to see Daisy standing with two teacups balancing one in each hand.

"Come in here and talk some sense into your father-in-law… I've got dinner to sort out yet, or we'll all be dining at midnight."

Daisy came and balanced the cups on the bedside table, pulling the chair over to sit beside the man who had loved her as a father since she was still in her teens.

"How are you feelin'?"

Bill smiled as she rubbed her protruding tummy.

"Better than you, by't look of it lass. What's ailing you, is our little stallion kicking you again?"

"Oh, black and blue. I'll be one big bruise by the time this little one comes out to see us all."

"Not long to go now lass, two months will fly past."

"I hope that it will, Dad."

Bill looked up suddenly. Daisy had called him Mr Mason through their long friendship, which had grown and blossomed since the death of his son in the great war. When she moved into the house, it had shortened to the more friendly version of Mr M, but she could never adapt to calling him Bill. The generation gap was too wide. But this…

"By 'eck lass … what's brought this on?"

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Not a bit of it. But … how many years has it been since we've known an'other and now…"

"Dad … " Daisy looked so serious and so worried that Bill longed to take her in his arms, but knew that he must listen.

"You're the only father I've got. The only one, really. You told me, when I first came to the old place, that you wanted me to be your daughter. To teach me, to look after me, so that you'd have someone to pray for. And … well, I've not prayed for much for a long time, but I've always prayed for you. And I prayed hard when you were taken so ill. Because you see … I'm not ready to … " Daisy bit her lip and caught her breath, her cheeks flushed a little and her eyes suspiciously bright. "Well, I'm not ready to live the rest of my life without you. I need to here. To help me, to help Andy too. And to meet our little one. To be Grandad, as well as Dad."

Bill was speechless. For the first time in his long life, he was bereft of words, wise or otherwise.

"Daisy … I will always be here for you lass, you know that…"

"But I don't! Not now, not really. And if you work yourself through another harvest, if you keep pushing yourself, then by the time this baby is born … He or She might not have a Grandad at all."

Bill's face had looked white and pale for weeks, but now he seemed transparent.

"I'm not saying this to upset you, and the doctor said not to shock you, but Dad … I need you. More than the farm does. More than ever right now. And I need you to get well, because I will need you more than ever in a few months time. Maybe even in a few weeks."

"Aye … aye, I hear you lass."

"So … will you think about it? About going and getting some rest? Because after the harvest, there'll be a really really important job coming up."

Daisy's hand rested on the curve of her belly. Her eyes were bright, but her smile was genuine now.

"And there's nobody in this world who can do it like you could."

Bill smiled, and accepted the wisdom he had long since taught to his daughter-in-law. And when the tea was drunk and Daisy brought out the empty cups, happy tears from her and from Andy and Mrs Patmore threatened to overflow them again. Daisy had managed the impossible. Bill was going to do as he was told, and make the trip over to the coast to convalesce at The Gull's Nest.


	4. Chapter 4

"But when are they COMING?"

"Josie, darling, I've told you three times, it will be after you've gone to bed."

"After Matty has gone to bed..."

"Ah, excuse me Miss Bates, it will be after both of you have gone to bed, and if this carries on, there will be no story at bedtime either."

Josie sulked at the kitchen table, arms folded and lip pouted in mutiny.

"Have you finished your homework?"

"Yes."

"Is your bed made?"

"Yes."

"And are your shoes in the rack where they should be?"

With a theatrical sigh, Josie slumped off her seat and stumped out of the kitchen.

Anna permitted herself a roll of her eyes. She had always known that any child of hers and John's would have a force of will to be contended with, but she had hoped that battles with her daughter would wait until at least after she had left school. But she was bright too, and therefore quick minded and eager to show what she knew, even if it was in an argument. In fact, especially if it was in an argument, even at the tender age of seven and a quarter.

"Everything alright, dear?"

John came in to check on things. The heavy clopping of his daughter's shoes going past the front desk to the inner hall had tipped him off to the presence of a cloud in his family dynamic.

"Oh, we're fine, but madam is convinced she should be allowed to stay up and see our Special Guests when they arrive."

"It will be far too late for that..."

"I know..."

"...And we have no idea what state Bill will be in..."

"... I know that too! But even so, you know what she's like when she's set her mind to something."

"Leave it with me."

"You won't undermine me, will you?"

"Not a bit of it. Watch and see."

Josie came back into the kitchen, still pouting.

"Shall we check your homework, darling?"

Josie humphed, pushing over her maths book.

"You're doing so well at these money sums now."

Josie was mollified a little. A patient hour at the desk with uncle Joseph had cleared up her pounds, shillings and pence far better than all of John's explanations over the kitchen table. "Uncle Joseph says I should be helping him out more, he says I'm nearly as good as him now."

"Quite right too, I think it is time you started helping out. You're getting to be a big girl now, much bigger and more reliable than Matty."

Anna shot a sharp covert look over at Josie, who was now beaming.

"And you know we're going to have special guests for the next few weeks."

The sunshine vanished. "Yes. But Mum won't let me stay up to see them."

"It is going to be really late darling, and they'll be so tired they'll want to go straight to bed. But there is something you could do to help. We're going to be very full for breakfast tomorrow. Would you like to help uncle Joseph to serve them? You could serve Uncle Bill and Aunt Beryl's if you like? And Aunt Isobel and Dr Clarkson's too, if there's time before school."

Josie's jaw dropped. This was high honour indeed. Daddy was always saying that Josie and Matty should stay out of the breakfast room in the morning, that it was their busiest time of the day, and the time when they needed to make the best impression on their guests, to make sure they kept coming back.

"Me...? Serve the breakfast?"

"You'll have to be up early, we serve at 8am, and you will need to have yours with me and uncle Joseph at 7am before we get started, so we can set the tables and check everything."

Anna waited with baited breath. Josie normally barely made it out of bed before 7am. This would mean getting up a whole half an hour earlier.

"Would I have to wear something special?"

"Oh I think so, don't you Mummy?"

"Absolutely. You could wear your black dress. And Mrs Johnson will lend you a white apron and cap, like she wears. You'll look super smart, like a waitress in the tea rooms."

Josie sat and thought for a moment.

"Will I have to carry three plates at a time?"

"No, no, I think one at a time will be a good start. With a special cloth so they don't hurt your fingers, because Mrs Johnson makes them nice and hot."

Josie nodded her agreement. "Alright then."

"It will mean you need to go to bed on time. To make sure you're up in time."

"Should I go to bed early?"

Anna swallowed her laugh as she set the tea to steep in the pot, handing the kettle back onto the stove. John was a master of diplomacy if he could pull this off.

"If you think that's best, it will help you get more sleep."

Josie nodded, determined.

"Alright. If I'm helping, I will go to bed with Matty."

"And I will be through to read you both a story. What are we up to now?"

"You said Sinbad is next."

"Yes, indeed he is. My favourite from Arabian Nights."

Josie smiled, a wide gap toothed grin.

"Why don't you go check on your brother? He's in the laundry room with Aunt Phyllis."

Josie clattered out of the room, her departure an absolute contrast to her previous exit.

Anna turned and put her hands on her hips.

"Alright, I have to know. HOW did you know that would work?"

"I didn't. It was a big risk. But she's always wanting to know what happens in the breakfast room, and I keep shoo-ing her out, so I thought it was worth a chance, letting her have an alternative thing that she wanted."

"I hope these bargains won't get bigger as time goes on."

"Oh they will ... but if we can use working here as a bribe, it might work out well for us for the next few years."

Anna gave in and laughed, bringing the tray of teacups and biscuits over to the table.

"So what time are we expecting them, seriously?"

"Isobel wrote to expect them at around 8pm. Mrs Johnson's left us some extra food for supper, so we can give them something to eat when they get here. The pub won't be serving food by then, so they can't go there like most of our guests."

"That sounds good. We can eat at 6.30 as usual. I'll feed the kids at 5 and send them off to bed before we eat. Where's Joseph?"

"Just totting up the figures. He wants to have it all done so that he doesn't have to do it before going to bed, then we can spend some time with our guests before they go to bed."

"I can't wait to see them."

"Can't wait to see who?"

Joseph appeared around the door with perfect timing.

"Bill and Beryl. Goodness, that still sounds so weird, I still think of her as being Mrs Patmore."

"Even though she's Mrs Mason now."

"She still answers to Mrs Patmore though," chuckled Joseph. "Just like Mrs Carson still answers to Mrs Hughes."

"Old habits die hard," smiled John, reaching for a biscuit.

"And yet it took no time at all for me to get used to being Mrs Bates."

"It took Phyllis a while, but that's because Lady Grantham called her 'Baxter'."

"And yet now everyone calls her Mrs Moseley."

Happiness radiated from Joseph's face like sunlight every time it did when someone mentioned his wife's married name.

"I'll never get used to it. In a way, I hope I never do. It means I've never taken her for granted."

Anna and John smiled at each other. They knew exactly what he meant.

"Is everything sorted in the guest rooms?"

"Yes, thank heaven. All lickety-spit, as Lord Grantham would have said." Joseph sipped his tea, sighing a little as he took the weight off his feet. "I'm glad we'll be able to make them comfortable. They've always been so good to us. All of us, in fact."

"I'm glad Isobel will be staying the night too. I miss her, even though she writes lovely letters."

"Has there been any news of the Crawley family lately?"

"Not recently. I hope she's got some when she arrives."

"Hopefully she's brought some letters with her." John was on his way back to the desk. It didn't do to leave the front door unattended for too long.

"Knowing her love of gossip, I bet she has. Right ... I'd better get started on tea for the kids."

"I'll go see how Phyllis is getting on."

"Right we are troops," Anna saluted with her spatula. "Onwards towards the evening we go..."


	5. Chapter 5

The chatter that had fuelled the earlier part of the journey had long since been spent by the time Dr Clarkson's car trundled along the last stretches of the A171 to Whitby. Bill was tired, and Beryl looked equally worn out by care and concern for her husband. The doctor wisely ceded the driving duties to his wife for the last stretch of the journey, weary after his own working day at the hospital. Isobel had wished that they could have set off earlier in the day, that their journey had not been so delayed, but Dr Clarkson was so dedicated to the new clinic he was setting up and finding a locum at such short notice proved to be impossible.

The sun was still high in the sky and the heat was starting to fade from the day. The window next to Isobel was wound down, allowing for a necessary blast of fresh air, and just as they crested the hill and the turning for the A174 loomed ahead, Isobel caught her first breath of the sea air, the unmistakable salty tang promising a fresh relief from the stale inland air.

"We're nearly there now, chaps," she said softly, negotiating the turn. "We're on our way down into the town, it won't be long now."

"By 'eck," muttered Beryl, shifting in her seat. "It's felt like a long journey Mrs Clarkson, I wonder you're not tired out."

"Oh no, not a bit of it. But I am rather ready for my supper!"

"Aye, I can agree with you there Mrs Clarkson." Bill's voice sounded thin and tired to Mrs Clarkson's sharp ears. Catching her husband's eye beside her, he turned for a friendly exchange, masking a covert look at his charge.

"I'm certain we'll be in good hands, and there'll be time for a proper rest once we're settled in."

"I don't know how you're going to manage that drive straight back tomorrow Doctor."

"Don't you worry about it Bill. We shall take our time. And there are a few things I want to take care of first, so I doubt set off straight away."

Isobel smiled to herself as she negotiated the winding street that edged along the quayside in the golden evening light. How like the dear man to be so tactful, when number one on his list was a talk with the local doctor about Bill's condition.

The way looked familiar, but it was the first time Isobel had made the journey in summer. It had been late autumn when she had made the journey to collect the Bates family and whisk them away to Yew Tree Farm, and the buildings had run with rivulets of grey rain. But now the town glowed in the evening light and her impression of the place was improving by the second.

Finally, they climbed the slight hill up to the respectable white painted corner building that was The Gull's Nest. And there, as their car pulled up and the headlights were dimmed, was dear Joseph in his good suit hurrying down from the front door to meet them.

"Good evening Dr Clarkson, Mrs Clarkson. How are you both? Mr and Mrs Mason, how lovely to see you. Please, do let me take your cases…" In a trice Joseph had swiftly removed their heavy bags and was gently shepherding them in through the door without an ounce of patronising tone. Isobel was relieved, Moseley certainly hadn't lost his touch in the years since he left service at Downton Abbey.

Up the few shallow stone steps and in through the front door and there was their good friend, John Bates, ready to greet them. Isobel noticed that the strain fell away from Bill's face at the sight of his old friend, whom he had guided through various troubles over the years and into a new and successful phase of his life as family man and self employed proprietor of a thriving guest house.

While Joseph had greeted the Clarkson's first, a very correct form of etiquette, John was able to leave such trivialities aside and address his first welcome to the man who needed it most. With an open handshake which morphed into a bear hug, he welcomed Bill into his home, just as Bill had done for Anna and himself all those years ago.

"Bill … welcome to the Gull's Nest, old friend."

"By 'eck lad, it's good to see you, it's been a long day."

"Far too long in many ways. Mrs Patmore, lovely to see you too…"

With practiced ease, John turned to greet Beryl who chucked at his use of her old name.

"It's been a long time since anyone called me that Mr Bates."

"I am sorry, old habits are hard to shake off."

"Aye, we know that lad, we know it well."

"John, are they here? Why didn't you call me? Isobel, how lovely to see you…"

Anna looked wonderful, thought Isobel. Dressed in a knee length lincoln green dress with a trim belt and neat heels, her hair swept up into an elegant chignon, she looked years younger than her last visit to the farm, when she had been so worn down and tired out from her difficult second pregnancy.

"Please, do come through, I hope we can interest you all in a bit of supper?" Anna's face was so bright and welcoming that Isobel wished they could bottle the effect and sell it as a tonic.

Bill's face faltered, his stomach was still weak and tangled from the unaccustomed long journey.

John caught the reaction.

"Phyllis has some lovely vegetable soup warming through, with some bread and butter, if you'd just care for something light…"

"Ah, you always know just what to say John."

John clapped his hand on his old friend's shoulder. "I had the best teacher in that respect Bill. Now come, let me repay your hospitality, it's long overdue…"

In a short time, they were all settled into the proprietor's dining room, the table had been extended and extra chairs found for their special guests, and was set with a shining white cloth and the best silver and glasswear. Everyone was settled and soon Joseph and Phyllis were bringing through delicious smelling portions of the thick, creamy soup. Warmed slices of bread and butter were handed around on platters, while glasses of fresh cold water were poured for the dry throated travellers. After serving everyone, Phyllis and Joseph joined the others at the table, and a gentle conversation started to flow.

The evening flowed away softly, as the light began to fade outside.

Anxious that they should not overdo it on the first night, John gently took command once the bowls were empty and every scrap of bread had vanished.

"Now, I'm sure you must be tired, and we have all day tomorrow to catch up on everyone's news, so can I show you to your rooms?"

"What time should we be up for breakfast John?"

"Bill," John smiled, his eyes crinkling in gentle humour. "You're here for a holiday, not to work."

Bill laughed gruffly to hear his own advice echoed back to him after all this time.

"True enough lad, true enough. But I'll bet my buttons it's served later than mine."

"Quite likely, very true. We serve breakfast at eight o'clock, but if you would rather have something later…"

"Eight o'clock! Goodness, that's half the morning gone!"

"So we'll see you in the dining room just off the entrance hall?"

"You will my lad, and I will be hungry by then."

"I am glad to hear it…"

John gently shepherded the Masons out of the dining room and down to their own room. Isobel made a move to stand and follow but was surprised to feel Anna's light touch on her hand and subsided into her seat, here eyes meeting Anna's in question.

Anna whispered softly "John wants to get them settled, he knows how tired Bill will be. We're hoping we can keep your company for just a little longer?"

Isobel understood immediately and was impressed again at the tactful teamwork the Bates' had developed in their short time at The Gull's Nest. How right they were for this career, it had been a superb decision for them all. Across the table she caught Phyllis's eye and shared a smile.

Down the corridor, a room door closed and a soft set of footsteps approached. John had returned.

"They're all settled. Beryl said they're going to retire, Bill's worn out. Can I suggest we adjourn to the sitting room? Perhaps for a cup of tea? Or perhaps a brandy for those who want one?"

"A brandy sounds excellent, John, I will certainly take a measure."

"I'll join the Doctor if you don't think it too racy." Isobel's face lit up.

"Not at all Mrs Clarkson. Right this way…"


	6. Chapter 6

The room was still dark when he woke, but the shapes around him were all wrong and for a moment, Bill felt disorientated. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was, once he registered the unusual sounds in the background. A soft rushing sound rose and fell, and as dawn began to streak the sky, a cry of a gull shrieked through the sky. Levering out of bed, Bill reached for his dressing gown and stumbled his way towards the window, peeking out through the curtain.

The sight that met him gladdened his heart. Down the street which faced the front of the guest house, on the horizon, the sea was clearly visible. The sky was lightning across the horizon, the strong streak of gold capped by soft icy blue, deepening to indigo across the sky. Bill usually saw the dawn sky from the seat of his tractor, but this, with a warm tawny gown and soft carpet beneath his bare toes, was far preferable.

"Are you awake love?"

"I am, darling, that I am." Bill turned back towards the bed to greet his wife, who like him was used to long years of early rising. "And it looks to be a fair one, from the sky. Clear as a bell."

As he spoke, his eye fell on the little tray set on the table in the bay window, containing a sugar bowl and two fine china tea ups. A small hand written card was propped up.

"Early morning tea available from 6am. Please ring."

"Would you like a cup of tea, Darling?"

"Ooh, that sounds just right Bill. I'll feel a rich as Lady Grantham, having tea in bed!"

Bill smiled and turned back to the tray. Ring? Where was the bell?

"Where's the bell, do you see it?"

Well used to life in the big house, Beryl knew exactly what she was looking for. Not a small metal bell on a tray, but a household bell, which would sound in the servant's quarters. "See the hanging piece of fabric aside the curtain? Give it a pull. And then do pass my dressing gown, it wouldn't do for anyone to find me in my nightie."

Bill obediently gave it a pull, smiling to himself. He pulled back one of the curtains to watch the sun rise, and then returned to bed to sit beside his wife. This being on holiday lark was just champion.

…

Downstairs, the kitchen was stirring into life. The cook, Mrs Johnson, started work at 6am, stoking up the range and setting up what was needed for breakfast in the dining room at 8am. The family and their workers breakfasted earlier, and in simpler fashion. They saved the full cooked breakfast for Sunday morning after coming back from church.

This morning, there was a change to the usual routine though. Before Mr Bates had even emerged for his morning coffee, there was a gentle tap at the door. Turning around, Mrs Johnson was surprised to see little Miss Bates, in her Sunday black dress.

"Good morning Mrs Johnson."

"Well, good morning Miss Bates. You're up early this morning."

"Daddy says I can help to serve the breakfasts this morning, since we have special guests staying."

Mrs Johnson smiled to herself.

"Did he indeed. And my, aren't we looking all grown up this morning."

"Mummy said you would have a spare apron and cap for me to wear, like a waitress…"

Suppressing her chuckles, Mrs Johnson went to look one out of the drawer.

"Well, let's get that hair brushed back and pinned up out of the way. Come over here, dear, away from the food prep."

A few minutes with the hairbrush and pins and Josie was looking very smart indeed. The cap stood up straight and the apron was settled around her.

"There we are now … smart enough to be serving in Betty's tea room. Now … what would you like for your breakfast miss? Toast and jam? Or Cornflakes?"

However, before there was time to decide, a sharp bell rang from the noticeboard. The tab above room six had flicked to orange.

"Good gracious me, it's been sometime since a guest wanted morning tea. Room six, that will be the Masons…"

Josie's ears pricked up.

"Uncle Bill and Mrs Patmore?"

"Mrs who?" Mrs Johnson was briefly scandalised by the utterance of a different last name for the female guest sharing room six.

"Mrs Patmore. That was her name when she worked with Mummy and Daddy, at the Abbey. She's married to Uncle Bill now."

The penny dropped and Mrs Johnson was able to thread the pieces of the puzzle together.

"I remember now, yes indeed. The cook from the big house. Cooks and Housekeepers are always Mrs, or at least they were in those days."

"Is that why you're a Mrs, Mrs Johnson?"

"Bless you dear, but no, I'm a Mrs because of Mr Johnson. Now..." she swirled the hot water out of the china pot and spooned in the tea leaves, topping it up from the steaming kettle and setting the tray with a small jug of milk and the strainer in its little holder. "I'd better take this up before I get started down here…"

"Mrs Johnson? Could I take it? And have my cornflakes when I come back?"

"Oh I don't know dearie … are you sure you can carry it? It's a long way…"

"I've taken Mummy cups of tea on a tray, I never ever drop them."

"Oh, righty-ho then, it will let me get the first batch of toast on. Let me get that door for you…"

Mrs Johnson smiled as she watched the little girl go down the corridor, diligently carrying the tray out ahead of her. She was a darling little thing, strong willed but kind hearted. Just like her parents. She'd need both toast and cornflakes when she came back…

…

Bill and Beryl were sat chatting and enjoying the sunrise when the little tap came at their door.

"That must be the tea," Bill heaved to his feet.

"Do you want me to get it?"

"Bless you no dear, it's only three steps to the door…"

Outside, Bill was met with a charming sight. It took him a moment, but only a moment, to place the little blonde girl with a gap toothed smile who was holding the tea tray.

"Well hello there, my dear Josie…"

"Good morning Uncle Bill! I've brought the tea tray for you…"

"And very welcome it is too… Would you like me to take that?"

"Yes please, it is a bit heavy…"

"Well now…"

Josie remembered Daddy's first rule of the guesthouse, which applied to all of the guests, even the special ones. Keep the conversation short and pleasant, don't stay too long.

"I can't stay long Uncle Bill. I need to go and help Daddy get ready to serve the breakfasts. But I'll see you in the breakfast room later…"

"You will do my dear, and thank you for the tea."

She turned after a beaming smile and headed back down the corridor.

Bill turned and came back into the room.

"Well my dear," Bill set the tea tray down gently and set the cups ready to pour. "I think the serving staff here are even more charming than those the Grantham's hired at the Abbey. A very sweet little blonde waitress just brought our morning tea tray."

"Well, did she now … how old is that child these days, I've lost count…"

"About seven or eight I think. Just at that adorable gap toothed stage."

"And the tea will taste all the sweeter for that smile. Ah, thank you pet…"

Beryl settled back against the pillows and accepted the tea cup from Bill. This truly was luxury.


End file.
